


Tales from the Sand

by CutToTheEndOfTheShow



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CutToTheEndOfTheShow/pseuds/CutToTheEndOfTheShow
Summary: In Konohagakure, the Senju thrive amongst the trees, harnessing rare Mokuton users to grow delicate structures from the earth ( Naruto Uzumaki is different )In Sunagakure, the Uchiha scorch their way through the desert with a ferocity matched only by the demon-eyed members of their clan ( Uchiha Sasuke would know. He's their last )In Kirigakure, the Hyuuga live amongst their water-born siblings, harnessing their far reaching eyes to spot enemy ships approaching island home. ( Hyuuga Hinata is an exception )In Kumogakure, the Kurama are feared, and the ones who carry their famed, deathly Genjutsu are all drafted to the Kumo ANBU from their birth. ( Kurama Sakura is no different )In Iwagakure, there is a wise, religous clan that gave them their natural Senjutsu abilities. ( Juugo is not so sure about the wise part )( AU in which each clan founded their own village, Naruto lives with his adopted parents, Itachi truly did go insane, Sasuke is RIVALS with Demon Child Gaara, Suigetsu fawns over Hinata, Sakura and Karin relearn kindness, and Juugo sets out on his own path )
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Uchiha Itachi paints his walls red. He slashes and stabs and whirls his blade as if it is an extension of his body. He listens to the screams echoing too loud in his head. _Stop._ He thinks, as he cuts off the head of a yelling clanmate. The red splatters over his clothes like paint, the paint that he uses for missions, for his hands, drenched in the aftermath of battle. Now, he will paint the walls with the red. _Stop screaming._ He thinks, because the noise is just so, so loud, and why can't they all be quiet? _Quiet._ His eyes whirl with the familiar red of Mangekyou Sharingan, and they fall down, one by one, without a trace. He whirls around, laughing hollowly in the empty household.

Quiet. 

It's all so... _quiet._

Uchiha Itachi draws the walls with paint. He enjoyed painting, painting, painting, like when he did with his mother except mother's gone now and Itachi wonders why he's so _late._ And he looks at the bodies at his feet and _kicks_ them because, oh dear, won't Shisui be cross with him when he sees how he messed up the floor? And then his dear brother comes home, and Itachi is quite cross with him, _Why couldn't you come home sooner, little brother?_ and his brother screams and yells and Itachi wonders why because, _Don't you want to paint with me, little brother?_ but his brother does not want to paint, no, no, because Itachi's brother comes at him with a kunai, and yells more and more and tries to slash at his thighs, and Itachi is very, very angry and his brother needs to be punished, of course. So Itachi silences his screams and giggles as his brother falls down to the floor, finally silent as Itachi always did like it. 

He stays there for how long, he does not now, painting the walls with blood, his clanmates, or his brother's, or his, he does not know, because to Itachi it is all simply that glorious, glorious _red._ And, he thinks, it is beautiful.

Uchiha Itachi runs away from the Village, mind still scattered and torn in pieces, and Sharingan still showing images of _red_ in his memory, red as sunsets or wine or- _the slash of a blade against Father's throat, the glorious, glorious liquid-_ he chokes out a laugh and starts painting some more, slashing the ANBU after him, and coloring his previously black and silver clothing with the shade of dark, dark reds. It suits him.

Uchiha Itachi joins Akatsuki because they _embrace_ his madness, they let him paint and paint and paint and color the walls and floors and ceilings in that delicious, metallic red he calls blood. Oh, how he _bathes_ in it, how his teammates look on in silence and appreciation, and that's what Itachi always wanted, really- but does wish his brother is here to see it, but no, no, he will have to wait, his brother needs his _punishment_ and _guidance,_ after all.

It is in eight months before Itachi starts to clear his eyes of the red red red red re- and he closes the Mangekyou and finds that he is going blind and oh, dear, he should really stop using it now, yes? But he can't because it lets him paint the world in a beautiful red. And Kisame - that's the name of his partner, Itachi is quite ashamed of himself for not knowing, so he paints so that he doesn't forget- looks at him with the same look that Itachi faintly remembers in his brother's eyes before he gave him the punishment. What was it? Appreciation? Awe? Love? Oh, he doesn't know.

It is in twenty months time before Itachi starts to get a nagging little feeling in the back of his head. He wonders what he did wrong, did he paint too much today and end up upsetting Leader over the paint he got over the residence? But no, that isn't it. He wonders if he hasn't been painting enough and goes out to do so, hoping that it would quash that silly little voice in the back of his head, but it doesn't. All it does is ask and ask and ask and- _What have you done? Why have you done it? Why why why why-_ and Uchiha Itachi crushes those thoughts beneath a boot and snorts because such silly thoughts do not require answers! He goes to paint.

( He still does not answer why )

It is in twenty-seven, when the voice finally, finally manages to rise from the quagmire that is Itachi's brain and into the forefront of his mind. Something about his parents, and Itachi is somewhat confused because what _about_ his parents? They had gone painting with him, he remembered. His mother was quite happy with him, even if she would not respond when he asked polite questions about hows and ifs and do you minds. But he can't blame them. Oddly enough, those thoughts keep staying on his mind and he cannot find out _why_ they are there.

He goes and goes and goes and tries to find answers of course, because how, how to get that voice out of his head, and they all tell him ' Don't , it's your guilt,' and Itachi is confused and frustrated because there is no answer and everyone seems so scared and tip-toeing around him, and what is there to be guilty about? His punishment for his brother? But he was merely teaching him a lesson after trying to kill him, that silly boy. He looks around for his parents so they could answer the question because surely they would understand him better than foolish Deidara and- only to find them not there. He wonders where they went. Was he a bad child to them? Well, he was always such a bad child, he would have to search for them later, and he wondered where did they go and-

Oh.

The realization crashes down on Itachi just as the red haze flees. Why did he do it? He looks around. Kisame is still looking at him strangely. His parents are gone. There is no one but him. The rock hits him harder than anything he has ever felt before. He takes a breath. And realizes the faint haze of someone around him. Pein does not see him. Sasori does not see him. Only Itachi can see him, and Itachi knows that this is some odd replica of his brother. Faint and faded, but not truly there either. A mere figment of imagination. Genjutsu. He does not bother saying Kai, for he knows it will not work.

“How many was it? It was a great many, am I right in thinking?” Itachi ignores the voice  “It was two hundred, I think. Yes, two hundred you sent to their deaths.” Itachi clenches his fist in his lap and determinedly focuses on the meeting. It’s not there if he ignores it, he knows. If he doesn’t look down, it never happens and maybe it didn’t happen.

Itachi doesn’t bother looking directly at the boy’s- _Sasuke's, his brother's-_ face. “A shame you don’t listen to me. Brother says that everyone listens to him!” 

“ Eh, but brother died when he took that blade.” Itachi turned away. The boy rattled on. His new brother had red, red, red- _NO! control yourself not again not again not-_ red hair and green eyes. Itachi refused to listen. The boy seemed to notice, sighing, propping itself up on an empty chair to his left, though not moving anything, gazing at him.

“ Just like me,” He said, facing downwards. “ When I died. I was young and tiny and really weak back then, weren’t I?”And Itachi tensed, because this was, despite all the rudeness, was his _brother,_ and surely he didn't kill his brother right? “ Cute though.” Itachi forced himself to turn away, eyes focusing on Pein as he spoke.

“ Tut-tut. Still not listening, are you?” The boy began poking at Itachi's face, trying to get him to turn his head although leaving no imprint. No response.  “That’s all right.” He yawns and props his head on his hands, an accusing look in his eyes.

“Keep ignoring me, Uchiha Itachi, Kin Butcher. Slaughterer. _Traitor._ Maybe one day the Uchiha Massacre will just disappear.”

( It takes 8 months 3 weeks and 2 days for Uchiha Itachi to wallow in his shock, grief, anger, and then, suprisingly, a tinge of... regret. It takes 9 months 4 weeks and 3 days for Kisame to build up the courage to knock down his stubborn walls and ask him what's wrong. )

( It takes 11 months of endless pestering for him to suceed in getting Itachi to say something )

( It takes three years for Uchiha Itachi to go back to his family's grave and plant flowers. He hopes they forgive him. )

( It takes four years for Uchiha Itachi to want to look after his brother again. He sends crows into the desert to watch. He wonders if his brother can ever forgive him. He can't. He sits and broods and plands on revenge and Itachi cannot blame him because he knows that it is his fault that his once beautiful joyous brother is like this. He privately makes a plan to allow his brother to kill him. That way, he can make his brother happy. That way, he can do something right for once. )

( It takes six years for for them to meet again. Itachi can feel his heart tear slightly as his brother rams at him once more, screaming, kunai in hand. And like before, Itachi activates his red eyes and sends his brother into sleep. He wonders if he can here him saying I'm sorry )


	2. Chapter 2

Kurama Sakura does not know peace. She does not remember her parents beyond stern, angry eyes before she was handed- _no, shoved,-_ over ANBU. She remembered her pathetic screams in her first sessions, how she pleaded for them to stop like the _coward_ she was. How she pleaded to go back to her parents only to be met with silence at best or a cruel laugh at worst. 

Her parents did not care about her. She was only born out of duty- _obligation-_ for the village. Because that was all she was good for. A tool. For Kumogakure. She should have been proud, really. That's what her teachers always said as they slashed out her beautiful, long, silky, pink hair as it falls, falls, falls in pretty pink ribbons leaving behind a hideous, humiliating choppy mess. She should have been _grateful_ for having been born in such a prestigious clan, for such powerful genjutsu, for such an oppurtunity to defend her village. She wasn't. She wasn't grateful and she hated, hated, _hated_ her abilities. Honestly? She hated her parents as well. She did not want to be born in this living, treacherous hell. But she was.

Kurama Sakura misses it, when she was seven and young and carefree and grew her hair as long past her waist and her only worries were about that cute boy with the dog at his side and talking with that blonde girl with blue eyes and Sakura has stopped trying to remember her name because she can't. And she hates herself for it. Because she wishes she remembered, remembered how wonderful life was back then like necter on her tongue. 

But Kurama Sakura does not remember. She goes on mission after mission, drowning herself in S-rank after S-rank, trying to forget admist the screams of the dying as they crumble and shriek within their minds, skin burning and peeling away despite there being no fire to cause such wounds. Sakura has long since forgotten what it was like to be free and simple and laugh, despite how desperately she wishes she knew. Her clanmate look up to her as perfect, as a genius, as a worthy addition to their number. They give her new, new names.

_The Orchid_

_The Poison-Lady_

_The Silent Blossom_

_The Illusion_

She hates it. They call her emotionless and abiding and fierce and merciless, but in the end, she does not want to be. She wishes she could laugh and smile, but she can't. Because she does not know how, and how do you learn how to something so foreign if you have spent so much of your life supressing it, until you no longer know what it is you are supressing? So Sakura hides as she always does, behind a pale, porcelin cat mask with suiting pink bands. She always did like that color.

In her mind, Kurama Sakura dreams about what might have been. She dreams about what if she didn't have to be pushed and pushed and trained and if she was some how _normal._ She wondered if she was born in a simpler clan, like the Inuzuka or the Yamanaka ( That clan sparks a tantalizing memory in her mind, though she does not know what ), even, maybe, if she were born a civilian. Out of all the scenerios, she likes that last one best.

So between gruelling training and tearing muscles and tiring missions filled with noting but starvation and death and duty and pain, Kurama Sakura takes off her mask and dreams. She dreams about the life that could have been. She likes to name herself Haruno Sakura in her dreams. Yes, that is it. Kurama- no, Haruno, yes, _Haruno_ Sakura, she thinks, does not know anything about the shinobi world. No, because Haruno Sakura stays as innocent as she ways when she was five and then six and then carried on all the way to her death.

Haruno Sakura, she thinks, works a humble job ( She does not know what, she doesn't know any job outside the cycle of death and violence that is ANBU ) and is married to that nice, handsome boy with the dog and red marks under his cheeks that Saukra has forgotten the name of, but it doesn't matter. Haruno Sakura lives a good, long life, and has two, beautiful, glorious children who carry the wonderful, uncut, pristine clean hair of their mother, that reaches down all the way past their waste in glorious bands of pink, uncut and unshorn. And then, and then, Kurama Sakura fantasizes, Haruno Sakura grows old, because that's what you do when you raise your darling children and live for so many years.

And because, because Haruno Sakura lived so long, she grows _wise._ She grows wise and smart and is famous and everyone listens to her, even the rival clans, and villages. And because she is so wise, she knows so, so much, and soon, she can get them all to stop _fighting._ And that's that. And thus, Haruno Sakura lives the best life and stops this horrible, horrible, violence that her other counterpart, this Sakura, is subject too. But then, as soon as the vision makes its way to _Kurama_ Sakura's head, it leaves.

Because Haruno Sakura does not exist. There is no miracle women there to save Kurama Sakura, the only Sakura, from her perils, and Haruno Sakura does not gain wisdom and does not die because she has never _existed._ No, because there is no peace for Kurama Sakura, only this cycle of non-stop cycle of death and more death and and-

Kurama Sakura screams in bloodthirst and fear and pain and cuts her sword through the enemy's throat like scissors through paper, the skin folding obediantly under the blade, and the blood hits her still, porcelin mask and drips down to her armor, though she hardly needs it, and she is grateful for it, for the blood, because it hides the tears as they stream down her cheeks. 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

No, there is no peace for Kurama Sakura, and there is no Haruno Sakura, for the dream has died before it has even begun. There is no break from the violence, and Kurama Sakura accepts that. Kurama Sakura is simply a tool for the sake of her village. Kurama Sakura understands. 

Soon, Agent 762 learns to stop caring.

" Agent 762." The Raikage's voice is flat.

Kurama Sakura stares with glazed eyes and still face, even behind the mask.

" You are tasked with kidnapping Hyuuga Hanabi from Kirigakure." He hands her the file.

Kurama Sakura wordlessly obeys and opens it.

" If she refuses to follow, kill off the target."

Kurama Sakura nods blandly.

" Your partner is Agent 731."

Uzumaki Karin. 

" Do not fail."

Kurama Sakura has never failed.

She nods.

" Yes, Lord Third."


	3. Chapter 3

Hyuuga Hinata does not understand why she is fighting. She does not want to be a ninja, or a shinobi, or any sort of fighter really, because she _hates_ it. She hates it as much as she hates how _different_ she is when standing with her clan. She hates how her cousin glares at her with empty eyes when he thinks she's not looking, but she is. She hates the screams as her father tortures her cousins with a raised hand, how the seal on their forehead glows green and blue and all the colors that make Hinata's throat churn. She hates her clan, and she hates her village, and she hates how she can smell the metallic blood in the Academy, even though it has been years since the last Blood Graduation Exam.

She doesn't even want to go there anyways. Her father tells her to work harder and _why can't you be more like your sister,_ and _you're a disappointment, get stronger,_ and Hyuuga Hinata is angry because she _is,_ she's trying her best and she's working and so she goes to the training grounds and turns on her Byakugan and _strikes_ the wood as if her life depends on it. She hits and hits and hits until her hands are bruised and bloodied and hurt and the wood is stained red with trails of blood, and chips of wood break off and dig into her skin painfully and she keeps doing it though her hands hurt and her eyes strain, and her entire body is tired and aching and pleading for her to stop. 

It is not enough. Nothing is ever enough.

She goes to the Academy the next day with haphazardously bandaged hands, hurting much more than yesterday when she was still to caught up in her heated fury to notice the burning pain in her palms. She can barely write that day, because it stings and hurts, but she does so anyways, through clenched teeth, even when her muscles tell her to stop, and her eyes want nothing more than to rest, because they feel so, so, stiff in her sockets and they're tired and fuzzy and unclear, and she thinks she is going blind.

She hopes so. Then she wouldn't have to go through this anymore.

She goes through the day as if nothing is wrong. At lunch, she goes out to the dock and thinks. Her father says that they should be grateful for their home. He says that it is because of the water that they are safe and they are strong. Because of the water, he says, they survive and prosper even when other villages don't. Hinate doesn't think so, because if it were true, then why would there still be traces of red when she enters the arena? Why would there still be stories about clans being hunted down and kidnapped and murdered? Father says that it is for the good of the Village, but all Hinata can see is blood and death and suffering and she doesn't know why they cannot see what she sees.

As a Hyuuga, as one of the founding clans, as the cream of the crop of the Upper Caste ( Josokaikyu, her father's voice tells her ), she should be a good fighter. She should bring honor to her clan, but she cannot. No, because she is a disappointment and no matter how hard she tries, she will never be good enough. And she does not want to be. She wants to be a doctor, not a kunoichi. Not a ninja. Or a politician. She hates being dragged into the Clan Disputes and listening, listening, to them all ramble on and on about their problems.

Oh, she knows its important, and she understands why it has to happen, but she hates it. She feels bile rise in her throat when her father speaks with the other Jokai leaders about the latest experiments done on Kekkei Jenkais from the Black Market, because all she can see is herself, lying on that cold metallic tomb as goggled experimenters dissect her body for information, as they gouge out the eyes that should have been a blessing and end up as her downfall. She hates being weak.

The Elders scorns her more often than not, and when they thinks she is not listening, they mutter _weak,_ and _worthless_ and _Kasokaikyu ( Lower Class )_ as if she is not listening, as if she does not have ears. They scorn and say that they prefer her sister, Hanabi, at least she shows more promise. It doesn't matter that Hanabi is eight, or that Hinata has been trying her best, or that she works and works and bleeds her hands out every single evening only to come home to scorns and hisses. And she is angry at first, and then disappointed and then fearful because what if they're right?

What if someday, Hinata wakes up and sees how much she's failed and how much people have been spending worthless time on her? And Hinata glares as the water that acts as a prison just as much as it protects her, and without thinking, leaps in.

The cold water welcomes her, drenching her in freezing wet, the thick water blocking out the yelling and shocked screams from above. It's funny, Hinata thinks, because as a Hyuuga, as a founder, she should know how to swim before getting too deep. That's what their clan is known for after all. Water. They had to learn water from the waves around them or else they would be caught and drowned and sinking sinking sinking like she is right now. But Hinata does not want to swim, and she lets the fire inside her kindle and burn away the cold before it seeps too far beneath her skin.

The cold wraps around her heart and she closes her eyes against it, letting them relax from beneath eyelids. She wonders if this is the end.

It isn't.

There is a form in the water next to her, and it grabs her and hold her up, so that she can see the pale light of the sun as it shines through the ocean, and she feels so so much more cold that she was before. The person, she does not know, starts swimming faster than possible. And the next thing she knows, she's on the dock again, heaving breathlessly, shivering in the sunlight, heaving in delicious breaths of air and so so confused. She turns around and sees a boy wearing purple and sharp teeth and white hair. He is grinning and there is water dripping down from him onto the dock, sinking past him, and leaving him dry within seconds.

" Hey, Princess, you should really watch out for yourself out there, y'know? Can't let a Bottomsave you precious Uppers, no?" Lower class then. She grits her teeth. Father always did tell her not to interact with anyone lower than Churyukaikyu, middle class. But Father isn't here now, and she always did not like listening. So instead of telling him to go away, she speaks in a light voice.

" Hyuuga Hinata. Heir. You?" The boy seems particularily suprised that she spoke to him and stutters slightly before responding. He clears his throat.

" Hoozuki Suigetsu. Orphan. Gues we real shouldn't be talking yeah?" He seems sheepish and started to to leave. Hinata looks down, still shivering and cold and completly wet. Her hands are still wrapped in bandages and they have begun to fall off, revealing purple and blue and red skin underneath. The wounds seem to have reopened. 

" No, you can stay." She muttered, not sure if Suigetsu heard her. The Elders considered her Lower Class anyways. Suigetsu seems quite suprised, as if not expecting that answer.

" Oh, alright then." He looks down at the bandages wrapping her hands, slowly being smeared with red from beneath. The watered down blood blooms in the soaked bandages. Suigetsu stands there for a moment before speaking. " I could heal that, if you want." Hinata wants to say no, say that she can do that herself, but she can't. The lack of improvement in the wounds is proof of that.

" Okay." She says, holding out the hand. Suigetsu bends down, and hold her hand in his, although she can barely feel it through the damp bandages, the blank nerves, and the stinging pain of salt in her wounds. Suigetsu's hands grow blue as they clasp her hands gently in his. She can't feel anything at first, but eventually, the blood stops flowing, and the pain stops and she can no longer feel the stabbing of splinters imbedded in her skin. The bandages fall off like wet paper rags to show pearly clean skin, no longer bloated with red and purple.

She can feel Suigetsu's hands now. They're calloused and rough and large for hers, no longer bundled up in layers of cloth. They feel like shark scales that catch between nails. She lingers there for a moment too long before withdrawing. Just in time too, because the teachers are already crowding around her, shooing Suigetsu away as they shout frantically to see if she is alright. She guesses that she is.

Later, the official story, the one the teachers tell her clan, is that she fell in while training. It isn't true, per say, but its better than saying that she jumped in and had to be saved by a lower class.

The next day, she goes to the slums to find Suigetsu. She wants to thank him with a box of chocolate. Her heart stops and sinks every time she sees someone curled up on the gutters, freezing and shivering in the cold . She doesn't find him, but she does give the rare ( well, for them, ) treat to the starving, younger orphans in the street, clothes ragged and dirty and wonders why she even lives in the godforsaken village that lets children under twelve wander without shoes. She still doesn't want to be a ninja, but inwardly, she can't wait to use her ability to help those people. Because its wrong. Because no one, let alone children, should be wearing rags when she goes to bed in silk as if it is nothing.

Meanwhile, the sharks and crows circle the island home of Kiri, laughing all the while. The blood may not have hit the water yet, but like vultures, they are willing to wait, counting the seconds to eruption, the tide stays consistent, though the slowly reddening sand will not. A war, a war, they whisper. A rebellion. 

The revolution has arrived.


	4. Chapter 4

Uzumaki Naruto's day goes like this.

1\. Wake up. Stay in your blankets for an unknown amount of time. It's silent. You could theoretically, stay there as long as you want. No one would come and get you. You could be lazy. You wish it wasn't so simple. You wish that there was someone telling you to get up.

2\. Get breakfast. Prepare two chairs, and realize that you only need one. Get some bread. It tastes sour. Add more jam. Still sour. Add more. Chug the milk down, pack your supplies and leave. Wear the orange and blue jacket. Hope that someone will notice. They don't. You don't know why you bother.

3\. Walk to the front of the school. There's a plaque there, a Senju and Uchiha symbol intertwined, symboliszng the relationship between the two clans even when they are apart. It's supposed to be a mark of friendship. You see it as a sign that Konoha cares more about rival clans rather than their own orphans. You irrationally regret spitting at the foot of the plaque the day before when the Uchiha massacre happens.

4\. There's that one guy who never lets him into his shop. That one water fountain he can't drink from. The Sandaime chides him and makes him apologize when he paints the store bright purple and when he turns the fountain water red. He doesn't know why everyone seems to think that he is always in the wrong but the others are always in the right. He grits his teeth and nods. He does it again the next week. A different target of course. And if this time, he decides that the store he paints is missing a few tiles, or if the fountain is subjected to a few kunai? Well, what's wrong with that?

5\. Try to listen to the teacher. It's hard, when the books are unreadable, and the letters keep falling off and turning around. How can he read when the b's look like d's and the a's are upside down and the o's are dropping away like sand? You don't tell anyone. You don't need pity. They call on you to speak. They do that awfully often, even when it is clear you don't know. You bluff. Smile, hope they don't catch any sign of weakness. Close your eyes and pretend you can't hear them laughing.

6.Count your coins in your frog purse. Go to Ichiraiku's. Maybe its stupid, but you buy as many bowls as you can, if only so you have a reason to stay there. And to have someone to talk too. Teuchi chides you for skipping classes. You try to tell him that you can't, about the words that skip and flip upside down and how they turn around the wrong way. He laughs.

7\. Go home. If you can call it that. It's small, and an apartment. Cramped. Messy. You don't have the time to clean it. There's no one to do it for you. Looking outside the window, you see prospective Senjus attempting to harness Mokuton. Many of them fail. Very few suceed. Even fewer can get above rookie status. You don't talk to them, after all, they are a prestigious clan, you are simply a lowly orphan.

( You open the door and shout ' I'm Home!'. You don't know why you bother. It's not like anyone's going to respond. Talk about your day to someone that isn't there. Stop talking and realize that. Wish there was someone you could talk too. )

8\. Practice with your kunai. Accidentally cut yourself. Stand there like an idiot for a moment. Realize that no one is going to help you clean it up. Do it yourself. Lick it. It's sour. Looking around , there's no bandaid. You'll need to buy more.

9\. Go to sleep. You're late. No one told you to after all. You wonder why you can't take care of yourself properly. Not for the first time, you wonder about your parents. Insignificants, probably. Or traitors. Whores. Not at all prestigious like the black headed prodigy Yondaime and his teammates. You remember when you thought yourself worthy of the Yellow Flash, just because you shared the same hair. It is tempting. He had a child, you remember, one that died and had he been alive, would have been around your age. 

10\. You can't sleep. Go think about all the friends you have. Not a lot. The Sandaime is friends with everyone, he doesn't count. Teuchi barely talks to him outside the regular customer banter. Sometimes, you don't sleep. Sometimes, you wander around at night aimlessly. People whisper, but no one dares to stop you and ask why. It would be nice if they did. 

11 There aren't a lot of other orphans around. The voice in your head urges you to end it. It says that you are nothing, are worth nothing, that no one will care once you're gone. It says, ' Let me out,' Whatever that means. He doesn't know what it is, but something tells him not to listen, nor to let it out.

12\. The beeping on the clock tells you that its midnight. You finally go to sleep. You dream of red nights and smoke and tears. Destruction and Chakra. You don't know what it is. You don't care.

One day, the Sandaime brings you a young couple He says that they will be your new caretakers. You don't particularily care, they're probably going to leave in a few weeks. They doesn't. You wonder if the Sandaime assigned them to him. He probably did. You try to be nice to them, but really, you wish that they were actually your parents. Or that they actually chose to do this. You wish you weren't so helpless. Or a complete goodwill project.

Akemi Naruto's day goes like this.

1\. Wake up. Stay in your blankets for an unknown amount of time. There's a voice telling you to get up. It also tells you're lazy. In reality, you stay there just to here that voice.

2\. Get breakfast. It's prepared for you. You have never eaten such delicious bacon in your life, and you tell them so, even when you don't necessarily think that. You just don't want them to leave you.

3\. Walk to the front of the school. There's a plaque there, a Senju and Uchiha symbol intertwined, symboliszng the relationship between the two clans even when they are apart. You ask for forgiveness. You think they heard you, because when you come home, you're officially adopted. You don't know what that means but it means you won't live like a rat anymore.

4\. There's still that one guy who never lets him into his shop. That one water fountain he can't drink from. He tries to ignore them. He still pranks them of course, until his new father sits him down and asks him why. You tell him, and wait for the scolding. He isn't angry. He talks to the villagers. It's nice having someone on your side now.

5\. Try to listen to the teacher. There are still problems. The letters are odd. But Mother gives you cookies when you get them right, so you do your best to pay attention.

6.Count your coins in your frog purse. Go to Ichiraiku's. Out of habit, you still buy as many bowls as you can. The lunch packed for you is left untouched. You feel immeasurably guilty for not eating it and apologize later. They tell you that you can eat ramen if you want. It is your money after all.

7\. Go home. It's larger, and still an apartment. Roomy, and clean, you never saw it before like this. It looks odd and out of place for someone as dirty as him. It feels wrong just be being here, as if he deserves the rathole of his previous home. He doesn't say anything, of course, because it would be rude to have complaints about a place so wonderful, so better suited for a Senju prince than for him.

( You open the door and shout ' I'm Home!'. Suprisingly, a voice responds, although you later wonder why it was so unnerving. You didn't expect for a voice to answer, even though you knew there was a person on the other side. You talk about the day, and while they don't seem to be listening, that's okay, It's better to have a face to look at than an empty space on an empty chair. )

8\. Practice with your kunai. Accidentally cut yourself. Smile when they frantically search for a replacement bandage. Get chided for laughing about the injury. You aren't laughing, but knowing that someone is looking out for a demon like you is funny.

9\. Go to sleep. It's still somewhat early, but they say that the key to a good life is a good bed. You do so. You still don't have friends but you have parents. And that's good enough.

10\. The voice in your head growls at you to let it out. That they don't care about you. You are worthless. And sometimes, Naruto admits, he believes it. The beeping on the clock tells him that its midnight. He finally go to sleep. For once, and from then on, he dreams of blue skies and golden fields, and life and flowers in the sunlight.

Of course, no amount of care in the world could have prepared him for Mizuki telling him about... The Nine-Tails.

" Team 8. Akemi Naruto."

He perks up.

" Kazura Ten."

Also known as Tenten, the girl was forced to stay back after a stunt got her team killed.

" Asaiko Yu."

That pale boy who went by Sai and only arrived a few months ago but seemed to spy on him no matter where he went. He looked creepily at him from across the room, sending shivers down Naruto's spine. He had seen Sai's guardian before, a scarred, bandaged old man with a cross on his chin and wrinkled, shrewd eyes and a pernament scowl. Danzo was a scary, scary man.

" Sensei. Yamato Tenzou."

Naruto's breathing hitched. Tenzou. The only non-Senju Mokuton user, all due to Orochimaru's experimentation. How could he have been so privaliged to get him? Fingers dug deep into coat jackets, shaking in anticipation. Realization hit him. Of course. Mokuton to restrain the Nine-Tails. A spy to check up the seal. An already trained and graduated girl that let her teammates die to stop him should he listen to Kyuubi. He chuckled, from amazement or sadness he did not know. Of course nothing came free in his life, because why should it for someone like him?


	5. Chapter 5

There were some things, Juugo realized early on, that could not be described in any way or language in the world. Something that would dangle at the tip of his tongue, itching to be said, but blocked, of solely by a lack of knowledge about what it was. The weird ache in knowing what something was like, and yet unable to describe it, feeling as if pushing against something not quite hard as rock, but not as slimy and clear as air, so he did his best to explain it the best he could.

The odd longing and comfort found in residing in one's own country, ecspecially after a long journey away.

The strange scent of the air during winter, all fresh and cold and _sharp,_ that makes you want to breath great lungfuls of it to feel it go down one's throat.

The strange burning itch for pain, when looking at a sharp or dangerous object, wondering what it would feel to scrape it against one's own skin, and see how it would bleed.

The sensation of great boredom, to want something dreadful to happen just so things could be interesting again.

He felt the last one the most. Juugo figured it was strange, to wish nonstop for change, and yet unwilling to part from it, as if it were fleas jumping around his head, one that he simply could not ignore, no matter how much he tried. Iwa was known for its steadfast, unmovable posistion. Fire and Wind and Water would change constantly, bending to the wills of time, some more, some less. Lightning was an oddity, no doubt, spontanous, erratic, sudden and disappearing in a flash. _Unpredictable._

But Iwa? No. Stone did not move. It did not waver. It did not change its leaders constantly. It did not go through _change_ easily. It has never been as abrupt or accepting of difference as the other countries, this Juugo knew. It was shown in how they had not changed their fighting system in decades, though it had time and time again proven ineffective in the Third Shinobi War, or how they refused to switch over to the Rutenic Script as Konoha has, or how, Juugo muses as he watches from afar, how they repetatively scorn and shut out that green-wearing, bow-cutted kid with thick eyebrows from the school, despite the obviously wasted potential.

Abnormation, they scorn.

Anomaly.

Some thing odd and strange and thus _bad_ and _horrible and disgusting, and somehow worthy of slander._ In fact, Juugo knows without a doubt that were it not for his clan's religous importance to all of the nations, they would have long since been killed off in prejudice. But instead, the villagers merely give them odd glances and forced smiles. But it is all fake, after all. Juugo may always think of the Land of Stone as his home, but he is quite glad to be only staying in Iwa for a few months, only to see his cousins, advisors of the Kage.

But perhaps advisors it a bit too loose of a word. It is more than that, and yet less. The word of Juugo's clan is important, no doubt about that. The word from the head can either make or break a nation. It is one the reasons that each Village has their own members of the clan to act as advisors, why Kumo and Iwa sought their recluent passivity when regarding the destruction of Uzushio. Juugo is no fool, and he knows that a single shake of the head of the Chief Priest would have been enough to make the entire invasion crumble down. No village wants to be friends with a slaughterer, that is true, but even fewer wish to be friends with a village slaughterer without the consent of the gods.

Sometimes, Juugo wants to leave Stone, because it's tiring and boring, and he's simply sick of the _consistancy,_ but he doesn't, and maybe it is because while he wishes for change, he's also afraid of it, like how one could be terrified of the darkness while also knowing that there's nothing there, yet being afraid nonetheless. It's hard, leaving the one place where he still feels an attatchment to, despite not knowing why. Perhaps it is the firm and steadyness of the earth that makes him feel grounded in the aftermath of a more troubling rage.

Sometimes, Juugo wants to leave Iwa, but he doesn't. Not because he has any particular affection to it, no, his begrudging attatchment can only be described as reminiscent of a ninja and his headband, utterly useless,annoying,peculiar at best and destructive at worst, and yet unpartable. It's hypocritical of him, he knows, to wish for change and yet unwilling to do anything to make that happen, nor willing to see it. Iwagakure, may not recognize their own hypocrisy, but as Juugo knows, those who sit on picket fences get impaled by them. So, Juugo decides, if he cannot leave Stone, he may as well do the next best thing: Make his utterly boring life somehow creative again. Maybe he should start then, instead of moping on a hilltop.

Juugo sighs, walking down the mountain, taking off his black, flowing hat from his head, undistinguishable from the rest of his black attire that he always has to wear on weekdays. The green boy is still crying, though the teasers have long gone. Sweat and tears mark his eyes and cheeks red and wet.

" Why are you crying?" Juugo asks, feeling oddly formal in his words.

" I-I''m sorry." The boy sniffles, wiping the tears hurriedly. ' I shouldn't be, I know. I mean-"

" Do you wish to speak?" The boy doesn't say anything, staying there with glazed eyes. " Do you want to tell me your name?" It's a silly request, and Juugo is somewhat suprised to see him nod.

" Rock Lee. i want... to become a ninja." He doesn't sound very sure. Unfortunate, because Juugo is quite sure he could be.

" Why are you unsure?"

" Because.... I can't."

"Can't what?"

The boy-Rock Lee- laughs hollowly. " Because I can't ! I can't use chakra, let alone elemental chakra! And they say-they say that Stone's supposed to know all about that right? But I can't! Hell, how can I even call myself a ninja if I can't...."

Juugo smiles. Plans are forming and weaving themselves into his brain like webs and trails and lines. " Very well," he says. " Do you want to find a trainer? I could help." 

Rock Lee's eyes light up. " Really? Who?" He sounds so eager, Juugo can't help but indulge. " There's this one Jounin. Maito Gai. Seek him out. I'm sure he can help." Juugo is sure he can help, he met that odd youthful male as one of the nin guarding him and his family as they went around the Land of Stone for ceremonies. He was loud and encouraging, and always making them try harder. He would be perfect for Rock Lee, who is currently bursting out questions about this mysterious Jounin and who he is and how he can help and-

And if he wasn't helpful, if Rock Lee still remained useless.... well, Juugo was willing to see this entire thing play out either ways.

Without a doubt, watching Rock Lee, struggle certainly, win or lose, sucess or fail, it would be interesting of course, a wonderful change in the routine of his life. All he had to do mas make sure it lasted.


End file.
